Assassin's Creed: Vengeance
by Code-name CERBERUS
Summary: In 1796, Arno rejoins the Order he abandoned in order to kill Francois-Thomas Germain, he is sent to Southern Germany in order to infiltrate a Templar network led by a man from Arno's past. Meanwhile, in 2017, a young analyst is unknowingly thrust into the war between Assassins and Templars in their search for a powerful Precursor artifact lost to history, the Egyptian Ankh.
1. Memories of Blood

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Memories of Blood

Kristoff sat uneasily in the rather uncomfortable chair in the expansive office on the top floor of the Harver Building in New York City. Only a few weeks prior, he was in Germany giving blood in a drive. The blood went through and he was subsequently asked to take a flight to New York to meet with people who worked for a company he'd only heard of once or twice. The man across from him read through a file before setting it down on the desk and adjusting his prescription glasses.

"So," he said with a thick American accent. "Mr. Schultz, this was the first time you'd ever given blood?"

Kristoff nodded. " _Das war das erste mal."_ (This was the first time.)

"I see. My name is Dr. Ronald Salen, and I'd like you to consider an offer." Dr. Salen said calmly.

Kristoff cocked his head to one side slightly. " _Was willst du?"_ (What do you want?)

"I want your permission to use your blood in a project we've been working on for some time now. If you're interested."

" _Was ist das projekt?"_ (What's the project?")

"You're aware of Animus technology?" Dr. Salen asked.

Kristoff nodded. He had played some bootlegged copies of Animus powered video games before, his favorite was _Pirates of Nightmares_ which had a film adaptation called _Devils of the Caribbean_ that was a box-office bomb but somehow spawned 4 sequels.

"Well," Salen continued. "We'd like you to work with us to uncover some information that's important to our company that's been lost to time I'm afraid. The Board of Directors would appreciate it and you'd be compensated generously."

Kristoff thought a moment, he was in between jobs at the moment, he donated blood in the first place to receive the hundred euros they promised. He smiled and nodded. Dr. Salen stood from his desk and shook Kristoff's hand.

"Welcome to Abstergo Industries, Mr. Schultz."

/

 **March 16th, 1796**

 **Paris, France**

Arno stood amongst a group of Assassins as they stood before the Masters of the Parisian Assassin Brotherhood. It had been two years since he and Elise de la Serre killed the Templar Sage Germain in the catacombs underneath the Temple. It had resulted in Elise's death. Some time later, Arno had gone to Franciade on sabbatical. However short lived it was.

With the help of a young urchin named Leon, Arno uncovered a Piece of Eden and assassinated a Templar Captain; Philippe Rose. Some time later, he had been accepted back into the Order he had abandoned in order to assist his love. But, she was gone and wasn't coming back.

"And you, Arno." said Guillaume; a long time member of the Parisian Brotherhood. "We've a different task for you."

Arno smiled. "What does the Order require?"

"You are to embark for Germany. The Germanic Brotherhood is in need of someone with your skills to infiltrate a Templar network in the area."

"Anything specific? I need details." Arno said.

"That is all we can give you. Now go, Arno. You have your task."

Arno took a slight bow and left the Sanctum, he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed with his task. Infiltrate a Templar network? Information wasn't his forte but his time living with the de la Serres in Versailles did allow him to develop a knack for deception, always sneaking off to play Pharaoh with the ruffians in the taverns. He didn't win a lot but getting away from his pursuers wasn't hard, it was fooling Olivier; _monsieur_ de la Serre's butler that was the challenge.

And Arno always overcame the old coot's challenge. Now, he was given a different challenge. One of patience, discipline, and caution. Three things Arno was never truly good at but he'd have to try anyway.

But, Arno had no time to ponder. He now had to find transport to Germany.

/

 **October 20th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff once again found himself sitting at a desk, however this time it was his own desk. He had joined Abstergo Industries a few months ago and was tasked with reviewing ancestral footage from his own ancestor August Steigen who was in Southern Germany in 1796 during the Rhine Campaign. He; along with Archduke Charles led the Swabian Circle and Habsburg Austrian military to a victory against the Republican French.

It was a good thing Kristoff had majored in information analyzing. Or else his job would be a lot harder than it actually was.

The information Abstergo wanted was the location of a strange artifact that August Steigen had come into contact with during this time. Kristoff was also tasked with cross-referencing his own ancestor's memories with those of another. Another donor named Callum and his ancestor Arno Dorian; a Frenchman who covertly assisted the Habsburg Austrians during the Campaign.

And on the side, Kristoff had learned a little bit of English. Seeing as how he was working in the most American city of all, New York. At the moment, Kristoff wasn't analyzing footage. He was on a break, drinking lattes or eating famous New York style pizza. Things Americans did.

His co-workers accepted him pretty easily too. They were also people who had been reached out to from other countries and brought to New York to assist in different projects that were seemingly of importance to the "Board of Directors." As they liked to joke about, the Board of Directors was mentioned so often and so ambiguously that it seemed as if they didn't exist at all.

Among his several co-workers, the ones he really liked to hang out with were Edmund Sully from the U.K who apparently was working on a project for Abstergo that involved memories of an aristocrat named "Haytham" or something like that.

Ingrid Bjorgdenn, a young computer nerd from Norway that was part of a development team for the next Abstergo Entertainment project. Nicknamed " _Blood of Odin."_ which centered around the Viking leader Ragnar Lodbrok and his sons adventures.

Finally, Oyovo Chapunde was a linguist from South Africa that was trying to translate an ancient language from 10,000 B.C. by following memories of a hunter from a tribe called "Wenja" named Takkar.

They had all been selected to research different time periods and historically accurate information. They were given their own studio and workspace in Downtown that they'd begun to fondly call "The Den." Abstergo executives had told them they were all part of a bigger thing being called The Brother's Project.

After a prolonged break filled with co worker antics and plenty of pizza, Kristoff sat back down at his desk and noticed a new email. He opened it and read it, assuming it was from an Abstergo rep.

" _Dear Mr. Schultz,_

 _It has come to our attention that you've been employed by Abstergo Industries to research the Rhine Campaign in search of an artifact. I will be the first to warn you, Abstergo doesn't want it as a keepsake like you think. These Artifacts are very dangerous if in the wrong hands and I assure you, Abstergo is the wrong hands. Take it from a former Abstergo employee who was subjected to some of the awful things that goes on behind their closed doors. Do. Not. Trust. Them._

 _With respect,_

 _Alexander Thompson._

There was an attached file. Kristoff opened it and read it too. It was full of documents that were marked with the Abstergo logo but weren't the usually Abstergo stuff. An autopsy report, names of people deep inside a secretive network, even people on the Board of Directors. Pictures from private galas. Ceremonies, and a security video that showed a man being killed in front of an audience of people in hooded cloaks.

This video actually had a title to it. _Security_Cam_22B_12-13-16_Assassination_of_CEO_ Alan Rikkin_by_Callum_Lynch._

Callum Lynch, the donor of Arno Dorian's memories. What the fuck was going on? Who are these people?

There was another video, this one was simply Abstergo Industries surveilling POI's. There was one video of a man in a trench coat and baseball hat cutting power to a whole stadium in Chicago with the touch of a button on a smartphone. Or another man in San Francisco destroying a server farm with nothing but a phone and a laptop, taking on dozens of security guards and coming out unscathed.

Kristoff had to get to the bottom of this. At the moment, whoever this Alexander Thompson was, he couldn't be trusted. It was entirely possible that these files and videos were faked. But he couldn't be sure. All he could do was continue reviewing the footage from his memories and Callum's and find the Artifact.


	2. From France with Love

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

From France With Love

 **May 30th, 1796**

 **Outskirts of Kehl, Germany**

Preparation had for the journey had taken a couple months. Arno first had to tie up loose ends and acquire the proper funds for such a prolonged expedition into the French wilderness. From there, he arranged transport with a caravan that was travelling to the Empire of Russia and they'd pass through Germany, specifically Kehl. Kehl was where the Germanic Brotherhood was stationed a few miles from the French border.

As they left the expanse of Paris and moved into the countryside, Arno noticed more and more the familiar banners of the French military. Blue dots were everywhere in green fields as uniformed soldiers marched east, the same direction he was going. At night, roadsides were lit by distant campfires and quiet was a distant memory as no matter where you were you could always hear at least one laughing soldier.

A few days passed. The farther they got from Paris, the more paranoid Arno became of his surroundings. He'd never been as far north as Franciade and never as far south as Versailles. Now, he was farther south than either of those. Even though it was summer, it still felt cold. At least to him. His driver; however, didn't seem to notice.

Then one day, as they were barely down the road from the border, the caravan came to a halt as Arno was resting. From where he lay in the back of a wagon, he could hear chattering from the front of the line. Cautiously, Arno exited the wagon and crept up to hear what was happening.

"Whats goods are you hauling?" a soldier asked the lead driver.

The driver replied. "Cured meats, wine, fruit, cloth. General goods on the way to Russia."

A soldier laughed. Arno could hear multiple soldiers blocking their path. "This is now property of the French Republic. Surrender everything you have, or you will be shot."

Reluctantly, Arno decided to act. He came out from his hiding place and stepped out between the group of soldiers and the caravan.

"Now," he said. "You know I can't let you do that."

There were five of them in all. Uniformed, muskets with bayonets. Trivial. "And who are you?" one asked.

Arno drew his sabre. "No one in particular."

The soldier sneered. "Get 'im."

The five soldiers charged where Arno stood. As he focused in on them, he sprung into action. Arno grabbed the barrel of the first soldier's gun and forced it across his chest. He forced the soldier to pull the trigger as his slender hidden blade founds it's mark in his neck.

The soldier's stray musket ball collided with another soldier's forehead. Two down, three to go. Another man came up behind Arno, he placed one hand firmly on the ground and lifted his legs into the air, wrapped them around the soldier's neck and swung through the gap between his legs. The soldier flew forward and landed in the mud.

One of the last two men tried to stick Arno with his bayonet but he rolled out of the way just in time. As he finished the roll in a crouched position, the second one swung at his neck with his sword.

Arno ducked from the attack and slashed at his leg with the hidden blade. As blood spurted from the severed artery, Arno lept to his feet like a cat and grabbed the man's sword. Grasping a sword in each hand, he advanced upon the panicked final man. He lashed out with his musket but Arno kicked it aside and it flew into the road. He was disarmed.

The soldier; in response, got on his knees and placed his palms together in the pious position. "Please, _monsieur._ I beg of you, don't!"

Arno frowned. "No."

Arno crossed the two blades together and decapitated the soldier. His body fell to the ground with the rest. He noticed the man he didn't kill was scrambling to his feet to run away down the road to the border and possibly his friends. Arno withdrew his pistol and shot the soldier in the back of the head.

Calmly, he turned back to the caravan leader, who was staring at him with his mouth wide open and eyes as white as paper.

"You-?" he began.

"I can assume I'm not getting a ride any farther, yes?" Arno asked as he sheathed his sword and pistol.

The driver's shaky hand pointed back to the road. Arno turned and a group of men dressed similarly to Arno were standing there. One of them cleared their throat.

"Listen here _Franzose,_ (Frenchman) don't come with us, and you're dead." he said.

Arno realized who he was dealing with and held out his arms. "Well, I'm all yours, gents."

/

The hooded men took him across the border via a secret tunnel in a farmhouse. As they walked to Kehl, Arno was told that they had the tunnel built because the French armies had made it impossible to cross undetected. In a matter of hours, they had made it to Kehl. Arno's new friends revealed themselves to be Assassins of the Germanic Brotherhood. They brought him to a seedy tavern and sat him down for a much needed drink.

"So," one said as Arno drank. "What are you doing here, _Franzose?_ You bear the marks of an Assassin."

Arno belched. "Your masters sent word that you needed someone adept at infiltration. Spying. Getting into a Templar network based somewhere in Germany."

" _Ya,_ I remember now. That call was sent some months ago, why come now?" the Assassin asked.

"I was slightly sidetracked. A minor mishap or two." replied Arno.

The Assassin sighed. "Well, _Franzose._ You couldn't have come at a worse time. " _Ich bin August, wie heißt du?"_ (I am August, what is your name?)

Arno had no idea what he said, but he caught his name and possibly a question. He said the first thing that came to mind.

"Arno…" he said unsurely.

August held out his hand. "Welcome to Germany, Arno."

Arno and August walked outside and into the town. To Arno's surprise, it wasn't bustling with activity but was scarily quiet. It was midday and no one was around, almost as if that town had been abandoned.

"You said I came at a bad time, why?"

August sighed. "The Network aren't the only Templars threatening us at the moment. Two high ranking Templar captains are trying to break down our doors with two massive armies at their back."

Arno blinked, they were the endless amounts of soldiers he saw on the way from Paris. "Who are they?"

"Jean Jourdan and Jean Moreau. _Die Bastarde sollten in der Hölle verrotten."_ (The bastards should rot in hell.)

Again, Arno had no idea. "Strong feelings, I assume?"

"Ach, we had bases in Nuremberg, Munich, and Berlin. The Templars razed them to the ground and slaughtered our friends. We are too few to stop them."

Arno cleared his throat. "What about Germany's military?"

"They do what they can, _ya._ But it is not enough. Archduke Charles is a fool if you ask me." August replied.

"So, any ideas as to what the Network wants?"

"They are searching for something, reports say it's some artifact from Egypt. Resembles a cross. Some say it was once in our order's possession but it's since been lost to time."

"Where should I start?"

"Berlin. It's the center of their power. You aren't accomplishing much here."

/

 **October 25th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff pulled himself out of the simulation. Nearly out of breath, he returned to the files sent to him by the mysterious Alexander Thompson and combed through them once again for any mention of an "Egyptian Cross." After several minutes of searching, he finally found an answer.

It was an after action report from three years prior. Kristoff read the report.

" _After action report, February 2nd, 2014. Juhani Otso Berg and I; Violet da Costa, travelled to Central Europe in search of what people were calling "the Ankh." A Piece of Eden with origins spanning all the way back to Ancient Egypt. From the memories provided by Subject 17, we found out that it was in the possession of Aquilus during the time of the Roman Empire. An anonymous donor's memories revealed that the Ankh was supposedly in Germany in the 14th Century during the plague. It was in the hands of one Lukas Zurburg. There is no further mention of the Ankh or Zurburg, leading us to wonder if this Piece of Eden even exists._

 _May the Father of Understanding guide us. Agents da Costa and Berg signing off."_

Ingrid came up behind Kristoff and gave him a start. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

Kristoff nearly jumped from his chair before he realized it was only Ingrid. "Nothing, just some documents from the Rhine Campaign." he said, scrolling down on his computer in order to hide the dates.

"Cool." she said. "Y'know, I found a document written by King Egbert of Wessex about Ragnar Lothbrok and said that he fought with an axe and a blade that protruded from his wrist, weird huh?"

The realization popped into Kristoff's head rather quickly. Apparently the most notorious Viking leader was also an Assassin. Yes, that was weird and not the kind of news Kristoff had been expecting to hear. It made him wonder if King Aelle was a Templar Grandmaster or something.

A few moments of digging in the Abstergo files revealed, yes, yes he was. Fuck, who wasn't involved in this secret war?

As Ingrid returned to her workstation, there was a sudden _ding_ of Kristoff's notification box in his email. He opened it and it was another message from Alexander Thompson.

" _Meet me at the Intelligentsia Cafe. We need to talk. Now."_

Kristoff glanced around the room. No one was really paying attention to the world around him so he took the opportunity to quietly slip out of the studio and down onto the street. Intelligentsia was just down the street. It had been less than a week after Alexander Thompson contacted him, why did he want to talk now Kristoff wondered.

He made his way to Intelligentsia and sat down, a waitress came by, took his order, walked away, then came back with his coffee before anyone made a move. Then, a young woman sat in a chair across from him.

"Hello." he said politely.

"Hello." she replied.

Kristoff wanted this woman to just leave so badly. If this Alexander Thompson saw him with anyone else, he might get spooked and Kristoff worried that leaving the studio just to come back might tip off Abstergo to something being weird.

"Glad you came." the girl said.

Kristoff blinked. "What?"

"You're Kristoff, right? I'm Lexie Thomas."

Another realization that hit him like a truck, Alexander Thompson was Lexie Thomas. Of frickin' course.

"Okay, what do you want with me?" Kristoff asked.

"I assume you read all the files, correct?"

Kristoff nodded.

Lexie glanced around the room. "You've probably figured out by now that the artifact the Templar network was looking for is the Ankh that da Costa and Berg searched for in Central Europe. They knew it was; at some point, at the resting place of Lukas Zurburg but it had been moved. The memories of your ancestor and Arno Dorian's are the key to finding where it is now."

Kristoff didn't reply for a moment. "I'm still not sure who you are."

Lexie sighed. "OK, I was part of Abstergo Entertainment's Sample 17 Project back in 2013. I was nearly killed by a Sage named John Standish. You read about Sages, right?"

Kristoff nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

"I left Abstergo and created the Initiates, a sect of Assassin hackers that spans several groups. DedSec, Valleymen, you name it. To you, I'm Lexie. To them and the Assassins, I'm Bishop. Now, Abstergo's CEO, the guy you met with? His name is Ronald Salen and he's a Templar. He offered you a position at Abstergo and I'm gonna offer something different."

"What is your offer?" Kristoff asked.

"Help the Initiates and the Assassins. Feed false information and send the real stuff to us. And when the time comes, help us take Salen down."

This wasn't a similar proposal to Dr. Salen's at all. This was about going to war not playing a video game. "You'll need to give me time."

Lexie sighed. "I wish we had time, but I'll give you a few days. Read the rest of those files, you'll know the truth. About Subject 17, the Templars, Assassins, all of it."


	3. Fog of War

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Fog of War

 **June 1st, 1796**

 **Berlin, Germany**

Arno arrived in Berlin quite late in the day. Unlike Kehl, the city was bustling with activity, people moving about buying things from the street vendors. Unlike in Paris, Arno didn't see any signs that there was constant thievery or even a murder. It was like there wasn't a war brewing to the west. It was all very foreign to Arno, but he recognized that to them _he_ was the foreigner.

And above all that, Arno knew he'd be almost completely alone in Berlin since the Germanic Brotherhood had been almost completely wiped out within it's walls. But he couldn't worry about that now.

His task was the gathering of information, not assassination. He'd have to abandon his robes for something less flashy and sadly, more Templar. First, he'd need an identity. Before he departed Kehl, August Steigen had informed him that an up and coming Templar agent from Sweden named Viktor Svensson had recently arrived in Berlin.

So, first task: Assassinate Vikor Svensson and take his place amongst the Templars operating in Berlin.

/

It took several hours of investigation but Arno managed to find where Svensson was staying. Apparently, Svensson was a penny pincher and was staying in a rather low end hotel. He didn't even have guards protecting him. Low level Templar agent, indeed.

Arno lept onto the roof of the hotel and made his way over to Svensson's room. Luckily, Svensson had left his window open. Something Templars usually know not to do in case of Assassins.

When Svensson wasn't looking, Arno soundlessly crept through the window and into the room. Svensson was busy adjusting a button on his dress shirt. Suddenly, Svensson turned around and saw the hooded figure standing in his room.

He sighed. "Well, I thought it was inevitable. New Templar in a new city. At least give me the benefit of the doubt, _ya?_ Why does my death suit you?"

Arno held out his hands and smiled. "You're going tomorrow to meet with the Templars already operating in this city. I need in, you're new here, no one knows you. A perfect fit."

"Ah, I see." Svensson said. "Clever Assassin. _Ta det över med då._ (Get it over with, then.)

Arno approached the Templar cautiously. He took a few moments to verify that he wouldn't try and get the jump on him. When he was sure, Arno activated his hidden blade and stabbed him in the throat. Taking his Templar pendant and a change of his clothes just in case.

"Now," Arno said, changing into the Swede's clothes. "I'm a Templar."

/

Arno cautiously walked into the building that Svensson had been tasked with going the morning after. He was dressed in a coat and trousers he had stolen from the Templar's travel case. He definitely looked the part and had a pendant to prove it, thank God. He walked up to the door and knocked, it cracked open and he could see a pair of eyes peering back at him.

" _Und du bist?"_ (And you are?) the doorman asked.

Arno flashed a smile and used what little German August had taught him. " _Viktor Svensson hier, um den Iren zu treffen."_ (Viktor Svensson, here to meet the Irishman.)

In the note Arno had found in Svensson's personal effects, it mentioned that the Network was being controlled by a high ranking Templar nick-named "The Irishman." Arno had no idea why he'd earned that monicker because there had been no reports of an Irish Templar anywhere in Germany.

The doorman grunted and let him in. They walked down a long, narrow hallway. It was dark and gloomy and Arno became more and more suspicious the farther the doorman led him. He attempted lines he had rehearsed in German the day before.

" _Was kannst du mir von den Iren erzählen?"_ (What can you tell me about the Irishman?)

The doorman replied in perfect German. " _Ich weiß nicht, er ist vor einigen Tagen angekommen und wird uns nichts sagen."_

Arno did not reply because he had no idea what the man said. They walked several more feet until the hallway opened up into a large room with several people standing around a well-lit table. Arno didn't recognize any of them and assumed these were the Templars who ran the network in Germany.

The Templar at the head of the table waved the doorman away. "Leave us." he said in a thick Irish accent.

The doorman turned and left, leaving Arno alone in a room full of ruthless Templars and nothing but a hidden blade for protection. The Irishman's face was illuminated by a single candle that rested on the table. He had graying black hair pulled into a tight ponytail and stark features that were well weathered and creased, he was in his mid-sixties at the least.

"You're the one they call Irishman?" Arno asked in a falsified Swedish accent.

"Aye." the Irishman said. "This is my son Iolar."

The Irishman pointed to one of the men. He was much much younger. Younger than Arno, not even twenty years old.

"And what is your name, sir?" asked Arno.

The Irishman sighed. "I'm not one to hand out names, but you're one of us, nonetheless. I am Shay Cormac."

/

 **October 27th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff once again exited his Animus console and wrote down the new information that he had gathered from the memories. The disappearance of one Viktor Svensson in Berlin was solved as well as the ringleader of the Templar Network. He glanced around at his co-workers. They had their Animus glasses and headphones on. They wouldn't be able to hear what he said, or if he left.

He combed once again through the files for any mention of Shay Cormac. Within moments he found it. Propaganda mostly.

" _Shay Patrick Cormac, born in 1731 in New York to two Irish immigrants. When Shay was 17 years old, he was indoctrinated by the insidious Assassin Brotherhood. After a disastrous earthquake in Lisbon in 1755 that was caused by the Assassins tampering with a Precursor Artifact, Shay left the wretched order and joined the Templars."_

" _Along with heroes such as Haytham Kenway and George Monro, Shay Cormac recovered several Precursor Artifacts in his lifetime. His most notable feat was the assassination of an Assassin leader in Versailles, France in 1776 named Charles Dorian."_

Kristoff didn't need any more files to figure out who Charles Dorian was. The dates matched up perfectly. Arno was born in 1768 and Charles died eight years later. So in 1796, Arno was literally inches away from his father's killer and didn't even know it. He kept reading the file.

" _The last recorded sighting of Shay Cormac was in 1779, when his son; Iolar, was born. There is no recorded date of this legendary Templar's death."_

Kristoff leaned back in his chair and sighed. "This just gets worse and worse."

Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of an Animus powering down. He turned and saw Edmund standing up from his desk in a daze.

"What's going on?" Kristoff asked.

"Dude, I just saw the weirdest thing. The guy I've been following, Haytham. He was introduced to some weird cult-like thing in 1744 called the Templars. They mention some deity called the Father of Understanding several times. Like, I think they worship him, whoever he is."

Kristoff feigned surprise. "That's… really weird."

"Yeah. Oh, and Ingrid told me about how Ragnar Lodbrok fought with a blade protruding from his wrist. It matches the description of several people Haytham fought over the years, including a native man in 1781."

"Hmm."

Edmund crossed his arms. "It makes me wonder. Why does Abstergo want us looking into people throughout history who match descriptions of each other. Like, my weird cultists and Ingrid's crazy Viking leader. Don't even get me started on the weird shit Oyovo has seen."

Edmund and Kristoff looked over at Oyovo and his Animus. Oyovo was hunched over, he almost looked unconscious.

"I don't know man, something really weird is going on here." Edmund said after a moment of quiet.

/

Dr. Salen watched Edmund and Kristoff converse from his office through the hidden security camera. He had audio and heard everything they were saying.

" _I don't know man, something really weird is going on here."_ Mr. Sully said.

Dr. Salen's assistant, Moira came in and saw what he was looking at. "Brother's Project is on track?"

Dr. Salen grunted. "Some of them are getting too big for their boots. We can't risk Mr. Sully asking too many questions or worse, getting his hands on files he shouldn't see. The Board of Directors would be most displeased."

"What about the-?" asked Moira.

"The Bleeding Effect is taking hold, yes. The subliminal white-noise we're feeding through the headphones is working nicely. Mr. Chapunde there is the most affected so far. In a matter of days, he'll be a trained warrior just like Takkar." said Salen.

"Bjorgdenn and Schultz are following the memories of Assassins. They could become a risk if the Bleeding Effect takes them."

"No, we'll make sure that doesn't happen. Chalk it up to Assassin propaganda, Moira."

Moira smiled and nodded. "Yes, Dr. Salen." she turned and walked out of his office.

Dr. Salen returned to watching the monitor. Edmund Sully had left the studio and in the corner of the screen, he could see Kristoff looking at something on his computer. The glare of the camera made the screen completely white and impossible to see what he was looking at."

Dr. Salen turned on the intercom. "Hargrave?" he said into it.

A crackling voice answered from the intercom. " _Yes, Dr. Salen?"_

"Bring up the file history of Kristoff Schultz, please?" he said.

There was a brief pause, then Hargrave replied. " _Nothing, sir. It was wiped as if he'd never been on the computer."_

"Is that possible?"

" _Shouldn't be."_

Dr. Salen turned off the intercom and stared at Kristoff. What was that man looking at?


	4. Invasion

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

The Invasion

 **June 4th, 1796**

 **Altenkirchen, Germany**

August Steigen and his small group of fellow German Assassins watched from the top of a hill overlooking the Rhine River as the two forces clashed from either side. On the east bank, the Habsburg Austrians were quickly losing ground to the French. The Assassins were tense and wanting so badly to get into the fight and help their country but they'd been given orders and they'd wait for their targets to show themselves.

Today, they had two potential targets, Jean Baptiste Jourdan or Jean Baptiste Kleber. The French and their strange names confused August to no end.

August heard one of the Assassins grunt in frustration. "We should be down there, fighting the French devils!"

August replied sharply. "We have orders, Gunther. We wait for our chance to strike."

Gunther didn't wait. Instead, he drew his sword and charged down the hill. Two other Assassins glanced at August apologetically as they too charged into the fray. August frowned and sighed. Only one other Assassin remained at his side.

"What can we do?" Johann asked. "They outnumber our countrymen."

"Wait until we see Jourdan or Kleber and strike. We received word from our spies that Jourdan is supposed to join Kleber at the bridge crossing at Dusseldorf."

Suddenly, August and Johann saw the deception. The spies were entirely wrong. In the distance, they saw Archduke Charles moving his force north. They looked downstream to the south and saw the _Armee de Rhin-et-Moselle._

"Son of a bitch." August said as he took off running down the hill towards the _Armee de Rhin-et-Moselle._

Johann followed close behind. The two assassins soon reached the army's advancing point and stopped. "They have a whole army! What are we going to do?" Johann shouted over the sound of charging soldiers.

"Abandon the plan! We go after Jean Moreau!" August replied.

August ran towards the army head on. Good thing it wasn't a full force. A few thousand at most. August met a few soldiers in close combat but for the most part, managed to get past them in the confusion. He charged towards the center of the army, where he could see a few men sitting on horseback. Through the mass of soldiers he swiftly made his way through, he recognized them as Jean Moreau and a young commander named Jean-de-Dieu Soult.

Soult wasn't the target for he wasn't aligned with the Templars. But Moreau was, so he must die. August gracefully launched himself into the air off of the body of a falling soldier and onto the horse Moreau was mounted on. August flicked his blade out and grinned at the Frenchman.

" _Vous Assassez un chien."_ (You Assassin dog.) Moreau hissed.

August cocked his arm back to strike. Before he could, a ball of metal hit him in the chest. He fell from the horse and onto the ground. Several soldiers crowded around him, pointing the tips of their muskets at him. Moreau dismounted his horse and crouched beside the injured Assassin.

" _Avez-vous vraiment pensé que cela fonctionnerait, chien?"_ (Did you really think that would work, dog?)

August lost consciousness. It all faded to darkness as he felt his hands being bound by rope and he was being dragged away from the battlefield.

/

 **June 5th, 1796**

 **Berlin, Germany**

Arno had been posing as a Templar for several days now and it was starting to weigh on him. He hadn't known a day for several years where he wasn't climbing on the rooftops or eliminated Templar agents. Now he was one of them and he wasn't any closer to figuring out what they wanted.

For several days he and Iolar Cormac combed the streets of Berlin. Meeting with informants and mainly just talking about politics. It was all very boring, but necessary.

"So, Iolar. What is your father's story? You of all people should know how secretive he is." Arno asked as they walked the streets of Berlin one morning.

Iolar sighed. "He's been a Templar for forty years now. Some say he was once an Assassin before they betrayed him."

"What do you think?" Arno asked.

Iolar stopped walking and turned to face Arno. "I don't know what to think. I was raised to be a Templar since birth and I am one. And will be until my death. What about you, how did you come to be a Templar?"

The question seemed foreign and even a little dangerous to answer, but Arno did his best. He improvised his answer on the spot. "My father was also a secretive man. When he was attacked by an Assassin in our home, I retaliated by killing the Assassin. It was after that I showed signs of the Gift."

Iolar's ears perked up. "The Gift? What do you mean?"

Arno cleared his throat. "I can see things. Things the naked eye cannot."

"Ah, the Vision as my father calls it. He has it too, as do I." Iolar said.

"So it is not as rare as I thought."

"So it would seem." Iolar's voice trailed off as they entered Berlin's city square.

There in the square, a crier stood atop a gallow-like stage, addressing a mass of townspeople. " _Die französischen Teufel haben in Altenkirchen geschlagen und viele Söhne Deutschlands getötet! Wir sind wirklich im Krieg, die Schwaben und Österreicher fragen jeden, der ein Schwert schwingen oder eine Pistole feuern kann, um die Eindringlinge zu bekämpfen!"_

" _Mo dhia." (My God.)_ Iolar said in Irish-Gaelic. "So, it's begun."

"Please, excuse my poor German. What did he say?" Arno said in the broken German that been getting better by the day.

"The French have attacked at Altenkirchen on the Rhine. The German armies have retreated and are looking for volunteers." Iolar translated. "Our work must hasten. If Austria falls, there will be nothing to stop Bonaparte from seizing it."

Arno couldn't wait in suspense any longer. "What are we even looking for?"

Iolar looked at him with a confused expression, his eyebrow raised and his lips pursed. "An object that is said to contain immense power. It was first found in Egypt and made it's way to Rome during the height of their empire. All the while in the hands of the Assassins. 400 years ago, we searched for it here in Central Europe but could not find it. Now, we've returned. And we will take it from the Assassin's grasp."

Arno recalled reading about this in one of the few times he'd ever set foot in the library of the Sanctum. "So we are-?"

"We are the Brothers of the Cross. Reborn in the image they had in the time of the Plague."

/

Iolar and Arno returned to the Brothers of the Cross hideout. They walked down the long narrow corridor once again and into the war room. The other three Templars were there waiting. There was Shay Cormac, obviously. Vadim Alexeev, a member of the Russian Rite and member of Russian nobility. And Alrick Winckelmann a member of the German Rite and eldest son of Johann Joachim Winckelmann, the Templar archaeologist that searched Heinrich von Bunau's library for reference to the First Civilization.

"So," Shay said as Iolar and Arno entered. "It's begun?"

Iolar nodded. "Jourdan and Moreau have attacked the Rhine and Archduke Charles is on the retreat, father."

Shay nodded. "We need to find the Ankh now. Before we're at the French's mercy."

Alexeev nodded. " _Moy khozyain neterpeliv, Cormac."_ (My master has grown impatient, Cormac.)

"Grandmaster Benediktov will have his progress, Vadim. We're mere weeks away from the grand prize. Alrick, what have your contacts found out?"

Winckelmann took a breath. "The Artifact is not here in Berlin, _Herr_ Cormac. Has not been for a century. The Assassins move it every hundred years to a new city. Always on the person of their Mentor."

Shay nodded. "And you, son? What have you and Viktor discovered?"

Iolar stepped up to the table. "The Assassins are still quite active here in the city, father. Just today, one of my men apprehended a messenger trying to leave the city, with this."

Iolar handed his father a sealed letter. Shay opened it and read it. He didn't say a word, only glanced at his Templar brethren and placed the letter in his inside pocket.

"Vadim, send word to your master. He will have progress at a rapid state. We shall not disappoint."

Vadim Alexeev grinned and nodded. " _Da, Cormac. Nemdlenno."_ (Yes, Cormac. Immediately.)

Vadim walked out of the room and down the corridor. Alrick followed close behind. Shay turned to Iolar and Arno. "I'd like to talk to you both, soon."

/

 **October 29th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Ronald Salen stood in the center of the dark room in front of the panoramic screen that stretched out all around him almost like a courtroom. Silhouetted figures filled each section of the wrapping screen, judging him silently. They were the Board of Directors. The absolute heads of the Templar Order. so secretive and selective, not even Abstergo Industries CEO; Dr. Salen, knew their identities.

" _Dr. Salen, how is Brother's Project coming?"_ one of the Directors asked.

Dr. Salen cleared his throat nervously. "The Bleeding Effect is taking hold on most of the Subjects. But a few are being… problematic."

" _How so?"_

"Well, these four individuals. They're… asking questions. Theorizing amongst themselves. The file history of one of their computers was erased." Dr. Salen replied.

" _Is that possible?"_

"It should not be, but he did it."

Another one of the Directors spoke up. " _Dr. Salen, if you cannot get your Subjects under control, we will have no choice but to abandon the project."_

Dr. Salen took a step towards the screen. "Please, give me more time. They are all so close. Just a few more weeks, I guarantee it."

" _You've become more trouble than you're worth, Dr. Salen. But, you've been true to your word in the past. This is your final warning."_

Dr. Salen nodded. "Thank you, all of you."

The panoramic screens blinked off, leaving Ronald Salen alone with nothing but his thoughts and a dark room. The Bleeding Effect had to take hold of the final subjects. If it didn't, there'd be no telling what they'd do to him.

/

 **October 30th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff sat in the exact same couch he had sat in several days ago when he talked to Lexie last. He sent her an email about an hour ago asking to meet back at the Intelligentsia coffee shop. Just like before, she nonchalantly walked up and sat down right across from him.

"Well?" she asked. "You have an answer for me?"

Kristoff smiled and grabbed a thumb drive from the pocket of his jacket. "Information from my time in the Animus. Abstergo's got the fake stuff, muddled and censored. This is the real thing."

Lexie grabbed the thumb drive and put it in her purse, she smiled. "This is good. But I still need an answer."

Kristoff nodded. "I'm in. What do you need?"

She smiled again. "Excellent."


	5. Exposure

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Exposure

 **June 6th, 1796**

 **Berlin, Germany**

Arno had become more and more confused. The Templars were aware the Ankh wasn't in Berlin but they still remained in the city. What got him cautious was the fact that Iolar had intercepted that letter he tried to get out of the city but he hadn't told him about. Arno began to suspect that Iolar knew something, and now Shay. Since he had read the letter.

Now, he had been summoned to a dinner with Shay, Iolar, and _Herr_ Winckelmann. They were to discuss their next plan and where the Ankh might be. He entered the place they were told to meet. It was one of the grander hotels in Berlin. He entered the hotel and was immediately greeted by servants who were waiting to take his coat. They did so and took it somewhere he didn't see.

Iolar came into the parlor and pulled Arno into an embrace. "Viktor, come. My father is expecting us."

Iolar led Arno into the large dining room. The table stretched all the way down the long room even though only four men would be seated there. It was already dark out and the chandeliers lit only the place they were sitting. Shay had seated Iolar and Winckelmann on one side, while Arno had to sit right next to the old Templar.

The three Templars and the one false Templar sat down in there respective seats and the meals were brought out. It was German food and Arno barely recognized it as edible having lived off of food solely from France all his life. But, he was supposed to be Swedish so he feigned delight.

"What do the native call this again, Alrick?" Iolar asked as he cut into the tube that was on his plate.

" _Wurst."_ Alrick said. "It is a necessity in German, my lord."

Shay grunted. "It's just meat stuffed in skin with pickled cabbage on the side."

Iolar sighed quietly. "Always the optimist, father?"

"Ever since you were born, son." he replied.

Needless to say, Shay's description of the dish made Arno lose his appetite, but he took a bite from the wurst anyway. And was pleasantly surprised when he discovered that it was actually good.

"So, _herr_ Cormac. I trust you've decided our next destination of search?"

Shay grunted as he chewed. When he swallowed, he spoke. "Cologne. Our sources say that is where Schreiber was last seen. So, that is where we'll go in search of the Ankh."

Arno cleared his throat. "And who is this 'Schreiber?'"

Iolar chuckled. "I almost forgot, you're still new here. Hans Schreiber is the wretched Assassin Mentor of the Germanic Brotherhood."

"And the man who has the Ankh, or so the sources say." Winckelmann finished.

"Shouldn't _herr_ Alexeev be here with us?" Arno asked.

Iolar shook his head. "He embarked for Russia last night. Said the political landscape had become too rocky for his tastes. I suppose he prefers barren, frozen wasteland."

The Templars were silent for several moments. All they were thinking about was eating the foot their hosts had placed in front of them. Even Arno, who wasn't sure if he'd enjoy the foreign meal but found himself doing just that. Then, after a few minutes of silence, Iolar spoke up again.

"Father, will you tell _herr_ Winkelmann and _herr_ Svensson about the time you went to France?" he asked.

Shay looked up at his son, then back down to his food. "You've heard this one plenty of times."

"They haven't."

Again, Shay looked up, then shook his head. "Alright. It was 1777, or was it '76? Ach, doesn't matter. I had just sailed there from the Colonies. Some native boy Assassin was wreaking havoc among the Colonial Rite at this time, but the Grandmaster Kenway sent me to Versailles to retrieve an artifact similar to the Ankh."

Arno stopped chewing. All of a sudden invested in every word Shay said.

"It was in the hands of an Assassin. I can't remember his name to save my life now but… There was something about him. An arrogance, a pompous attitude that I found disgusting."

Arno quietly put down his silverware and made sure he had his hidden blade… But first, he wanted to hear him admit it…

"There he was, standing alone in the corridor of the Palace of Versailles. He was calling out to his son who had apparently ran off."

Shay's eyes locked with Arno's…

"'Arno… Arno… Where has that boy gone?'"

Arno couldn't believe what he was hearing, after all these years… And to think he'd been inches away from him for days?

"It wasn't hard for me to get close to him… I put my blade between my ribs and twisted. We exchanged a few words that are hard for me to recall, it's been so long." Shay began to chuckle. "The look on the boy's face was priceless…"

Arno could no longer hold back, he unleashed his hidden blade and with all his fury that had been building for twenty years, he swung at the Templar's neck. With a speed Arno didn't think Shay possessed, he grabbed Arno's wrist and stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Couldn't resist, could you, Mr. Dorian?"

Arno was so full of white hot anger and confusion, that he had forgotten anyone else was in the room. A costly mistake as the butt of Iolar's pistol hit him in the back of the head. Knocking him to the floor.

/

 **June 10th, 1796**

 **The Rhine River, Germany**

August awoke in the moving cell that was rocking back and forth. The cell was being hauled by animals down a long path. August recognized the countryside, it was Germany. The French had crossed the Rhine and were invading his homeland. For nearly a week, he'd been their prisoner. Moved from camp to camp. They were cautious enough around him to not let anyone too high ranking near him.

Someone cleared his throat behind him. August turned and saw a well dressed Frenchman sitting on the other side of the bars in the wagon.

He spoke in extremely broken German. "You have a nice nap, Assassin?" he asked.

August stirred. His equipment had taken from him immediately after his capture, the only thing on his torso was a bandage from where the musket ball entered and exited his body.

August got up and leaned against the bars. "And who are you then? They don't let me have visitors."

"I am Louis Desaix, commander of the Army of Republican France. And you are an enemy of that republic. You tried to assassinate General Jean Victor Marie Moreau."

"I'm aware, thank you." August rebutted.

Desaix frowned at the mockery. "Commander Jean-de-Dieu Soult apologizes for your shoulder. His only regret is that he missed your pathetic head."

August shrugged. "My only regret is that I landed on Moreau's horse and not his. After an _army_ let me by."

Desaix frowned again. "You will address every high ranking member of this military with their full title and the respect they deserve, or you will be executed within the week. Understood?"

August smiled dryly. "You got it, French devil."

"You'll be happy to know you'll be transferred into the possession of _l'Armee de Rhin-et-Moselle._ They will march upon Kehl and attack within the month."

August's expression changed from mockery to deadly serious. Desaix continued.

"It's where you Assassins are based, is it not? I'll have to set some men aside to butcher your pathetic little band of Merry Men."

August got right up against the bars and in the Commander's face. "I will get out of here, Frenchman. And when I do, I won't stop until you are dead."

Desaix smiled. " _Au revoir mon ami. Vous vous détériorerez dans cette cellule pour le reste de la défense pitoyable de votre peuple. Que le Père de la Compréhension vous guide."_

/

 **November 2nd, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff combed through the files Abstergo had on the Templar Shay Cormac. It was definitely limited and heavily censored, but thanks to the newfound support from the Initiates, Kristoff managed to actually get some useful information out of it.

Apparently, because of Shay's unusually large amount of First Civilization DNA not only allowed the trait of the Gift to be passed down to his son Iolar and Iolar's son Cudgel. This made him a shoo-in for Abstergo's Helix Project back in 2014.

Another interesting thing Kristoff found while rooting around in the Cormac files, Iolar Cormac actually married twice. Once to a young girl in 1794; Cudgel was born that year, and another in 1824 named Bailey Frye. Iolar and Bailey had a son named Ethan.

Although, in 1827, Bailey Frye left Iolar and raised little Ethan by herself with some help from friends in the English Assassin order. And in 1847, Ethan had two kids as well. Twins, who went on to become Assassins themselves. Jacob and Evie Frye, the Assassins who took down the Templar Crawford Starrick in 1868. Actually, looking at the portraits of Shay Cormac and Jacob Frye, they looked eerily similar to each other.

What stumped him was that Cudgel Cormac was almost 70 when he went up against the American Assassin Varius in 1863 and he managed to almost defeat the Assassin who was almost four decades younger.

Then, just as he was wondering about the question, there was the answer in front of him. In Cudgel Cormac's file.

" _It has been long rumored that the Piece of Eden known as the Ankh was in the possession of the Cormac Family for a extremely limited amount of time. The Ankh was rumored to have healing and life extending abilities. It is possible that having the Ankh in his possession rubbed onto Iolar and Cudgel Cormac, extending their lives and youth. It is rumored that Cudgel Cormac died in 1890 while his father in 1855."_

 _Well crap._ Kristoff thought to himself. _A spoiler warning would've been nice._

Then, he spoke out loud. "Also, it's pretty weird that Iolar lived through his youngest son's entire life and that Cudgel almost made it to the 20th Century?"

"Hmm?" Ingrid said from across the studio.

"Nothing!" Kristoff called back, pinching himself for speaking out loud again.

/

 **June 13th, 1796**

 **Berlin, Germany**

Arno had been locked in his cell for days. He was fed twice a day and he had a window at least so he wasn't completely forgotten. But neither Iolar nor his father's killer ever bothered to show their faces. He'd counted the days since his capture. It had been a full week. There was a crier that stood outside his window that was at least three stories off the ground. He got frequent updates from the conflict not that far away.

His facial hair, that he'd meticulously groomed while not in captivity had grown since he arrived in Germany a fortnight ago. It didn't bother him as seeing as copious amounts of facial hair seemed to be a fashion trend in Germany.

Suddenly, the door opened and none other than Shay Cormac stepped in holding a plate of food. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Shay with a look of curiosity, and Arno with a look of hatred.

Shay set the plate down on a table and sat in a chair in the corner of the room. "Tell me, why did you come to Germany? Was it to get to me, or was it my son?"

Arno shook his head and shrugged. "Neither, I did it for the fun. Seeing Templar utterly oblivious was a bonus."

Shay held up a finger. "Ah, see but we're not, Arno. That letter you tried to get to your friends in Kehl. Iolar found him before he even left city limits. I learned long ago… Never pass notes."

Arno scoffed. "But you're fine with orphaning a child and gloating about it years later?"

"I didn't know Charles Dorian had a son. If I did… Maybe things would've been different. For us both."

Arno had to think about the Templar's comment. How much would've been different? He might have never met _monsieur_ de la Serre or fallen in love with Elise. But Elise would be alive…

The pain he'd suppressed for two years flooded back with the thought of her. Her lifeless body buried deep within the ground…

Oh, god… Why her? Why couldn't it have been him Germain struck down? It'd been better for everyone…

"I see you've a lot to think about. As do I. Even after I killed your father, I had things to think about. I told you I didn't remember what you're father spoke of? Well, he spoke of Connor and the Colonial Assassins, their capabilities. I underestimated them him then. But no longer after he murdered my own mentor. You see? We're not so different."

Arno refused the Templar's advance. "I'm nothing like you."

"No? How many times have the Assassins turned their back on you in favor of their own gains? Face it, Arno. We're very much alike, you and I. And I guarantee, the petty alliance you have with them now will be gone before you know it."

Arno scoffed and frowned. "And how would you know anything about the Assassins? You're just some Templar."

Shay stood up and walked to the door where he had entered from. "Because Arno," he paused for a dramatic effect. "I was one of you."


	6. Night Riders

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Night Riders

 **June 14th, 1796**

 **German Countryside Between Altenkirchen and Wetzlar**

August awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of something rattling against the bars of his compact prison on wheels. He stirred and sat up from his pile of hay on the floor. Outside, he saw a few figures messing around. After a few curses, the door opened and Gunther and Johann snuck in.

"Evening, August." Gunther said with a smile.

August wanted to murder and hug Gunther at the same time. He was happy to see him, but at the same time, he disobeyed orders and possibly cost them the life of Moreau, resulting in his own capture.

Johann inserted a twisted metal stick into the lock and it clicked. The door swung open and August stepped out back into freedom. Gunther was holding his equipment under his arm. He gave him his robes and his sword, pistol, rifle, and both hidden blades. August was one of the few Assassins who still used to old tradition of two hidden blades instead of one.

The Assassins bolted from the small prison and out into a field beside the road. Behind them in the camp, they could hear soldiers clamouring to stop the escaping prisoner, but there were grossly unaware of where they'd actually fled to.

When they were certain they were safe from any search parties, the small band of Assassins stopped in the middle of the moonlit field.

"So," August said. "How goes the war?"

Gunther shrugged. "It's only been ten days since Jourdan crossed the Rhine. The two French armies spit and are heading to assault Wetzlar and Kehl."

"We cannot be in two places at once. Have you heard anything from Dorian?"

Johann shook his head. "Not since he departed for Berlin. He's gone dark. Perhaps captured."

"Or just good at his job. We cannot worry about him now. Johann, you will go to Wetzlar and assist our brothers there. Gunther, you and I must travel to Kehl. If that is where Moreau will be that is where we will be."

Gunther frowned. "Is this the mission, or a vendetta?"

August took a deliberate step towards the young Assassin. "You can make decisions when you prove yourself capable of following decisions of your betters, _herr_ Schulze. Now, we are going to Kehl, we will kill Moreau, and we will save Germany."

Gunther shook his head in slight shame. Everyone knew that August was being led by blind vengeance for his humiliation at Altenkirchen. It seemed that the only one who wasn't aware of this was August himself.

"We'd best get moving then, hmm?" Gunther said.

/

 **November 4th, 2017**

 **43 39 19 N 75 27 42, Upstate New York**

Lexie stood in the center of the massive chamber. This was the Grand Temple. The place where the Precursors developed the Methods. Different projects that were designed to save the world if need be. It was where Desmond Miles died and Juno's ethereal form was released into the world. Or so those rumors said, Lexie wasn't prepared to dive down that rabbit hole.

"So, this is the place you wanted to meet?" a voice behind her said.

Lexie turned to face the second person to visit the Temple in 4 years since Abstergo collected Desmond's body. "Hey, Gavin."

Gavin Banks smiled. "Hi, Bishop. Remind me, why we're here?"

"Because Abstergo is doing something big."

Gavin shrugged. "When are they not?"

Lexie waved off his derogatory comment. "I mean bigger than usual. It involves the Bleeding Effect. They're calling it the Brother's Project."

"Hmph, usually they outdo themselves with their project names but that one's a little weak."

"Gavin, this is serious!" Lexie almost shouted.

"The Bleeding Effect, so what? We've seen what it does. This is old news."

"Subjects 18-21 all shared blood before being hired by Abstergo. Apparently, they all have alarmingly large amounts of Precursor DNA. All the memories the Subjects are looking through involve Artifacts that supposedly were made in this Temple as one of the Methods."

"And your source? Subject 21? How do you know he can be trusted?"

Lexie shrugged. "He's the one with the least amount. The Bleeding Effect will take more time to take hold of him. That gives us time and loyalty."

Gavin frowned. "I prefer when loyalty isn't temporary, Bishop."

"Give Kristoff time. He'll find the Ankh and give us the data before Salen can get his hands on it."

Gavin's eyes widened. "You didn't mention him."

"Does it matter?"

"Ronald Salen is extremely dangerous and has a far and powerful reach. Hell, he could know you're here right now. And if he does, we-"

There was a loud scraping sound. It was the door to the Temple opening once again. This time, a team of uniformed agents with assault rifles stormed in. With Ronald Salen close behind.

Gavin and Lexie ducked into one of the smaller chambers and out of sight. The strike team moved all around the room. Salen walked up to the equipment that had been left there by William Miles and his team. Stuff Abstergo didn't bother taking. Including Rebecca Crane's makeshift Animus.

"So, this is where it all started." Salen said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

One of the strike team came up beside Salen. "Room clear, sir. Moving to the next."

Salen nodded and kept walking forward towards the front of the chamber where Desmond met his end five years earlier. He noticed the pedestal was still there. The odd Precursor machine that killed Subject/Sample 17. It was enamoring in it's design. Unhuman, like that big red button you're always told not to touch. He felt drawn to it.

"Sir, I don't recommend touching the pedestal." an agent said.

"And why not, sergeant? It's been drained of power long ago…"

Salen placed a hand on the pedestal, unlike what was supposed to happen; which was nothing, a surge of power rippled from the bottom of the machine and up into Salen's arm. He felt an extremely painful sensation, like being stabbed and pulled away.

"Sir, are you alright?" one of the agents asked.

 _No, you dumbass. You're not alright. I'm in your head now._

Salen shook his head. "Yes, I'm fine."

 _Liar._ The voice said.

"Sir, I recommend we leave this place immediately."

"Yes, lets."

 _Yeah, Ronny. Let's get out of here._

 _/_

 **June 14th, 1796**

 **Berlin, Germany**

Arno was becoming more and more annoyed with still being trapped in his damned room somewhere in Berlin. He had resorted to picking at the nails in the floorboards until his fingernails started to bleed and peel off. He managed to loosen a few boards, big enough for him to fit through down into the second floor. But, he constantly had to replace the board and cover it up with a carpet as well as hide his hands every time someone came in with one of his two meals a day.

One day, after Arno had lost count of how many had passed, the door opened and Iolar Cormac walked in. He wasn't heralding a plate of food like his father had some days previous, instead he wielded a butcher's knife. A tool he seemed oddly comfortable with.

He took a breath before speaking. "Do you consider yourself an optimist, Arno. A sadist? I've only known you as a Swedish Templar so forgive me for not knowing much about Arno Dorian."

Arno chuckled. "More of a nihilist, really."

Iolar stared at him for a moment. "Then why do you fight? if you truly are a nihilist, there isn't a reason for you to continue opposing my father and I."

"I quite like denial. Denying Templars satisfaction."

"It seems your Order likes doing the same to you. My father is right you know, the fragile bond between your creed and yourself will soon dissolve into nothing. Then, maybe you'll truly be devoted to nihilism."

Arno shrugged. "Or existentialism. I do so enjoy that one."

Iolar was becoming quite annoyed by Arno's wordplay and banter. "You understand your position, yes? You stand between my father and his goal; however barely, you fight for an order that wouldn't even think of fighting for you. And you're the humanely kept prisoner of the order you want to see razed. My father may shower you with philosophical questions about your place in the universe, but do not expect the same from me, Arno Victor Dorian."

Iolar got in Arno's face, so much so that Arno could smell that morning's breakfast and the alcohol from the night before.

He spoke again. "You will break one day, Arno. But I will turn you into dust… Fitting, isn't it? Two generations of Cormac's killing two generations of Dorian's."

Iolar turned on his heels and walked straight out the door and slammed it behind him. Arno could sense someone was outside the door waiting for him. From the sound of it, it was the German, Alrick Winckelmann. Arno honed in his senses to listen.

Too bad for the Templars, Arno had plenty of time to learn German perfectly. " _Ihr Vater ist nach Köln gegangen. Er hat mich gebeten, dafür zu sorgen, dass du das gleiche morgen früh tust, Herr Cormac."_ (Your father has left for Cologne, he asked me to make sure you do the same by tomorrow morning, Mr. Cormac.)

Iolar replied. " _Danke, Winkelmann. Bereiten Sie den Wagen vor, um mittags auszusteigen."_ (Thank you, Winkelmann. Prepare the carriage to disembark by noon.)

"Noon? I must act fast then."

Arno flipped over the carpet that covered up the loose boards. Finally prying them apart, Arno slipped into the second floor where there on a table were his robes and weapons. The Templars had apparently found his stache in Svensson's hotel room where he had hid them. Arno thought this was quite fortuitous. He donned his robes for the first time in two weeks and was once again Arno Dorian the Assassin. Not Viktor Svensson the Templar or Arno the prisoner.

Arno opened the window and slipped out. "I'll need to get to those stables. However, Winckelmann can't know I was there."

Arno made his way down the street via rooftops and onto the stables. He made his way to Iolar's carriage without attracting attention. Stealthily, Arno made his way beside the carriage and hid inside the luggage compartment which had been expanded; thankfully, to accommodate for the large amount of luggage a wealthy Templar family would be carrying.

It was about the size of a person and Arno climbed to the very back of it and curled into a ball as tight as he could. Arno knew it'd get boring quick. So; using his hidden blade, he cut out a hole in the compartment about the size of a plume. So he could see, and breath.

After a while, he could hear indistinct chattering and the carriage rocking about as someone climbed inside. Arno assumed it was Iolar and the driver. He heard the crack of a whip and the carriage lurched forward. Iolar Cormac was off to Cologne, unaware that he was carrying a stowaway Assassin with him.


	7. A Lineage of Mysterious Preportions

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Lineages of Mysterious Proportions

 **November 9th, 2017**

 **The Bronx, New York**

Gavin was fuming after the news the Assassins had obtained from an Abstergo blood blank made it's way to his ship that had been anchored in the bay for several days at this point. Bishop's contact; Subject 21, had a secret that no one knew about, except him now. The patterns were too blatant not to ignore and it was a wonder that the eggheads in Abstergo missed it too.

He sent an email to 21 under the guise of "Alexander Thompson." the moniker Bishop was using to get his attention in the first place. He knew the boy would come calling if he thought Bishop was wanting to meet.

The door to the dark room opened and 21 stepped in. Gavin was still engulfed in shadow and completely hidden. "Lexie? Are you here?"

 _Lexie? Interesting…_ Gavin thought to himself.

Gavin lept from the darkness and advanced on 21. Unexpectedly, 21 fought back almost immediately and put the skilled Assassin firmly on his ass. Gavin laughed.

"So, the Bleeding Effect is working? Nice." he said.

"Who are you? Where's Lexie?" 21 asked as he stood over Gavin with his foot on his chest.

"Whoa there, I'm a friend. Gavin Banks, I'm an Assassin."

21 let up a little, before lending a hand to help him up. Gavin accepted the gesture and he got up off the floor. 21 sighed. "So, Lexie isn't here. Is she?"

Gavin shook his head. "It's just me."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Alright, my associates stole a sample of your blood from an Abstergo facility in Miami. We analyzed it and boy, did we found something interesting."

"Okay, what did you find?"

Gavin took a step forward. "All that Precursor DNA in you? It's a real shocker Abstergo didn't notice before but…"

"But what?" 21 was ready to burst with anticipation.

"We compared your blood to the blood of a guy named John Standish. We found that from a facility we destroyed three years ago. And well; kid, they match almost perfectly."

21 was still extremely clueless. "What does that mean?"

Gavin took another step towards 21. "Those memories you've been poking around in, August Steigen's? They're yours. August isn't your ancestor; 21, you _are_ August."

Kristoff couldn't believe it. He was a Sage? That seemed impossible. If it were so; according to the files, he'd have seen and manifested memories from previous incarnations.

"We used your blood and traced it all the way back as far as it would go? Wanna know something else? You're Lukas Zurburg, meaning you hid the Ankh seven hundred years ago and found it four hundred years later. Isn't that convenient?"

Kristoff didn't know what to say to that.

"Run back to your Animus and find us that Ankh, August. I'll be waiting."

/

 **August 24th, 1796**

 **Amberg, Germany**

Arno had beaten himself up about it too much as it was. He had been too rash and decided to pursue Cormac to Cologne only for him to be foiled and the German Mentor was killed. His only lead was a Frenchman named Abbatucci that might as well be dust in the wind. Since his incident, the Templars had gone to ground and all production had ceased to throw him off the trail. No one in the Brothers of the Cross would be found if they didn't want to be.

Arno had wandered through the battlefields, asking his countrymen where Abbatucci had gone but none knew for certain. A general consensus said he'd gone to someplace called Amberg but he couldn't know unless he investigated. Arno knew he was running out of time, every day he searched aimlessly for Abbatucci was another day Shay and Iolar were a step closer to the Ankh and whatever power it possessed.

He crested the hill overlooking Amberg, much to his dismay there was a battle raging down in the town below. Much of what he could see, he saw the main French force being flanked on two sides from the right flank and a frontal assault. The French were surprisingly grossly outnumbered by the Austrians and were soundly losing.

He urged his mount onward down the hill. He traveled for several more minutes before he made it to the city itself which had been all but destroyed and abandoned. Austrian soldiers ran about not paying attention to the Frenchman that had just strolled into town. Wandering through the empty streets for a few minutes he eventually found a nearly destroyed and hollowed out building where several men in Austrian uniforms were standing around a table.

Arno dismounted and approached the building. Sensing something off to his side, he put up a forearm to block as a hidden blade came inches from his throat. Behind the hidden blade was the German, August. He looked vastly different from their previous meeting, longer hair, a beard, scars fresh and old, and sunken, stressed eyes.

August smiled momentarily before withdrawing his blade. "Brother, what brings you here?"

Arno laughed. "It's been a long two months."

"I know more than most, I've been captured, shot, shot some more. But each time, my targets have eluded me."

The parallels weren't lost on Arno. "Pretty much the same, actually. So, what is happening here?"

August glanced around at the destroyed town of Amberg. "The French attacked this morning, it is a good thing the Archduke and Wilhelm von Wartensleben are here. Their combined military prowess has proven a bastion of hope for our men."

"What of Kehl? I heard there was a battle."

August sighed. " _Ya,_ Kehl has been lost. I tried to stop them but Moreau had too many men."

"Who leads the French here?"

"Jourdan. Moreau went dark and I haven't been able to locate any information on where he went."

"That sounds familiar." Arno replied.

Arno and August started walking down the street towards the sounds of the ever escalating battle. "What do you mean?"

Arno sighed, reluctant to tell him. "I found the network. They call themselves the Brothers of the Cross and they're looking for something called the Ankh. It holds a great and terrible power."

August's mind experienced a flash. He saw strange images of a bygone age. An elderly Assassin dressed in ancient robes placing a strange artifact in a tomb before laying himself to rest in it. Then nothing.

Arno snapped his fingers. "Are you alright, _mon ami?"_

August shook his head for a moment. "Fine, I am alright."

" _On y va?"_

August nodded. " _Ya, wir werden."_

The two Assassins made their way to the battle which was still raging strong. As they overlooked the chaos and death, Arno used his ability to spy the French Templar Jourdan among the combatants. He was definitely a formidable fighter, many an Austrian fell to the tip of his French rapier.

Arno pointed his location out and August prepared to launch himself into the fray to finally catch his target. "We must wait for our chance." Arno said.

August said nothing, instead he practically hurled himself towards the battle, drawing his sword and letting out a mighty cry. Arno cursed and followed close behind. As they entered the fray, Arno lost August in the immense amount of bodies all around him. August however had no trouble making his way over to Jourdan.

Jourdan smiled when he saw the Assassin approach. " _Moreau m'a parlé de vous, vous n'abandonnez pas, n'est-ce pas?"_ (Moreau has spoken of you, you don't give up, do you?)

August smiled in return. " _A-t-il mentionné que j'ai l'intention de vous tuer, alors?"_ (Did he mention that I intend to kill you, then him?)

Jourdan lunged at the Assassin with the tip of his sword leading the charge, August sidestepped out of the way and with the leading edge of his own sword, knocking away the flimsy French rapier with ease. Jourdan looked shocked but with no hesitation, he withdrew a flintlock and aimed it.

August grabbed the barrel of the gun and pointed it into the air. Both men tried to force their will on it and sway it into a specific direction but they were giving equal force and for a while it did not budge. Finally, August got some sway on the gun and forced it to point directly into Jourdan's face.

Jourdan glanced down the barrel then at the Assassin holding the flintlock. " _Au revoir, fils de pute"_ (Goodbye, you son of a bitch.)

August pressured the trigger just a little and Jourdan's face curled inwards as the ball went into his forehead and lodged in his brain. After the French soldiers realized their leader had been killed, they gradually began to retreat until the Austrians claimed victory. A bloody victory, but still a victory. One that was much needed in this step of the war.

Arno finally caught up with August as he was kneeling over Jourdan's corpse. Arno was for a moment, enraged but it subsided after a few seconds.

"I needed him alive. He knows where my only lead went."

August pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of Jourdan's coat. "This holds mention of an Abbatucci? Useful to you?"

Arno snatched the letter, it was written in French. " _Dear Jean Baptiste Jourdan,_

 _Due to complications, monsieur Abbatucci cannot assist you at your coming assault on Amberg. Our scouts have reported that the Austrian presence in Amberg is limited and you will not require his artillery support. Instead, I have ordered he embark across the Rhine once more for Huningue._

 _May the Father of Understanding guide you._

 _Jean Victor Marie Moreau_

"The Templars don't look out for their own, it seems." August said as he read over Arno's shoulder.

"No, they do not."


	8. The Beginning of the End

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

The Beginning of the End

 **September 10th, 1796**

 **French Staging Ground, Germany**

Louis Desaix stood rather uneasily in the presence of Jean Victor Marie Moreau. Moreau was reading through a report that had been sent to him two weeks prior but had only reached him now, seemingly delayed by the constant conflict across the southern Germany countryside. Moreau placed the document on the table in his tent and rubbed his temples as if he had a migraine.

"Jean Jourdan is dead. Murdered by the Assassins."

Desaix sighed. "How could we let this happen?"

"I underestimated the Austrian numbers and sent Abbatucci to Huningue. A costly mistake I shall not make again. These Assassins are parasites, difficult to find but easy to kill."

Desaix glanced at his boots for a moment. "What is our course of action, _monsieur?"_

Moreau looked at the young commander for a moment. "You will take a force and make for the north bank of Danube. Hopefully, Archduke Charles will divert his course to engage you, giving our men breathing room to take the fight back to them."

"What if Charles doesn't take the bait?"

" _Que Dieu nous aide."_ (May God help us.)

/

 **September 12th, 1796**

 **North Danube Bank, Germany**

Louis Desaix had been followed for a few days at this point. Now, he was setting up a camp along the banks of the Danube river. Not a mighty river by any stretch of the imagination but still a vital point that was worth taking. His actions were being observed by August, who sat perched in the branches of a nearby tree, waiting for his moment.

He wanted so much to end Desaix right then and there, scratch another name off the list of his personal vendetta. The fact that the vendetta existed was a source of inspiration and shame for August as it kept him going but reminded him that his apprentice; Gunther, had fallen victim to August's warpath.

After Kehl, August had arranged Gunther's body to be transported back to the town where he grew up. Ulm. They had held a service, one August couldn't participate in because he was in no condition to travel after the injuries he sustained during the battle.

Now; however, he was ready to go and fresh from assassinating Jourdan just a few weeks ago at Amberg. Only Desaix, Kleber, and Moreau were left on his list. Kleber had been laying low for an extended period of time and was especially difficult to gain any information on his whereabouts, August would have to be patient. He'd promised Arno that he'd focus mainly on waiting until Huningue was weakened then finding Abbatucci and as a result, the location of Shay and the Ankh.

Finally, the guards in front of Desaix's tent were changing. This was his chance, August clambered down the trunk of the tree and cautiously approached the tent. He entered silently, Desaix was distracted by stacks of correspondents on the table and hadn't noticed the Assassin enter.

August crept up behind the Templar agent and bring his hidden blade to his throat, Desaix immediately tensed up.

"Assassin," he said. "What do you want, why not kill me where I stand?"

August pressed the blade closer. "As much as that would bring me satisfaction, you're not my target. I want a list of Moreau's movements."

Desaix scoffed. "And I'll just hand them to you?"

August took his second hidden blade and jammed it into the pit of Desaix's knee. Blood poured from the wound and Desaix made a whimpering sound.

"Scream and you die." August hissed.

"I'll tell you nothing!" Desaix hissed back, in extreme pain.

August twisted the blade.

Desaix winced. "I'll tell you everything!"

The blades retracted. "Good."

/

 **November 12th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff had decided to go to the gym for some reason. He woke up that morning in his rented apartment and found extremely defined muscles rippling through his body. His time in the Animus was physically affecting him. The man who called him a Sage had referred to it as the Bleeding Effect. He'd seen the changes in his co workers as well, Oyovo was speaking fluent Neanderthal and Ingrid was off constantly talking about longships and their construction process. She even started talking about sacrifices to Norse Gods.

The Bleeding Effect was changing them slowly and Kristoff knew it. He took one look at a punching bag and the next thing he knew, he was attacking it with skills he hadn't had the day before. He walked up to a wall and climbed all the way to the rafters of the gym without breaking a sweat. He went over to the obstacle course and lept over the barriers, did flips, rolls, dives, climbed over walls and jumped over the other side. Something only people proficient in parkour could do and he was doing them all without ever attempting parkour in his life.

He went back to his shabby apartment and did about 200 pushups without stopping. Then, 100 one handed pushups without stopping. He felt like a superhero and he'd only just begun to perspire and didn't feel tired whatsoever.

Kristoff took a moment to look at himself. He hadn't been fat per say but he definitely wasn't ripped. Now he had an overnight six pack similar to that of some professional athlete. It was all crazy and it wall all thanks to a sedentary job looking at genetic memories for 300 hundred bucks a week.

But, now was not the time to admire his summer bod in November. He needed to find from his past self where the location of the Ankh was and keep it out of Abstergo's hands. They'd catch onto him eventually, thanks to the Bleeding Effect, he'd be ready.

/

 **November 20th, 2017**

 _You're running out of time, Ronny._

"I know, stop telling me." Salen replied.

 _Just saying, dude. Those Directors are gonna find out you're a sham and they're just gonna erase you from existance._

Salen slammed his fist down on the desk. "I won't let that happen! I'll find the Ankh, then I'll find a way to get you outta my head!"

Salen could almost hear the smile of delight from inside of him. _You think I wanted to possess you? You were the first dude in four years to go near that thing, beggars can't be choosers, y'know. Not my fault you touched it._

"Yes, but it is your fault I'm going insane!" Salen shouted at nothing.

Moira poked her head into the office. "Everything alright, Dr. Salen?"

Salen smiled and put up a hand. "Fine, just in a conference call."

Moira smiled also and returned from whence she came.

 _You like her._

"What? No, I do not?" Salen said with a gasp.

 _Dude, I'm in you head. Trust me when I say, you like her._

Salen sighed. "Fine, I guess I do like her Moria somewhat. She's helped me since I took over this job and stepped into some mighty big shoes. I wouldn't be the person I am without her keeping me steady."

 _That was probably the mushiest thing I've ever heard._

Salen smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Miles."

Outside the door to Salen's office, Moira smiled. She heard every word Ronald had said, it was nice to know her boss cared that much.

"But that last thing I want is her roped into this." Salen continued.

 _Yeah, I get that. I had someone I cared about once._

"What happened?"

 _She died… I…. killed her._

"I'm sorry, if I had known."

 _Save it, Ronny. You knew, Lucy Stillman. You two met six years ago if I remember correctly. Funny, six years ago I was working at a bar in New York._

"The Bad Weather. I remember. I was one of the agents who scouted you, verified who you were. You know what tipped me off?"

 _No, I don't._

"You sold me a Shirley Templar. I ordered four of them."

 _That was you? Damn, you hold your liquor._

"I had to be escorted out, remember?" Salen laughed. "That was a different time altogether."

 _Too true, Ronny._

/

 **September 19th, 1796**

 **Outskirts of Kehl, Germany**

Victor Marie Moreau watched from the distance as the Austrians mounted a counterattack against the once occupied city of Kehl. The thunder of their cannons from a distance was enough to send shivers down the decorated French general and Templar's spine. Moreau turned to one of his lieutenants.

"Where is Desaix? He should be here by now?"

The lieutenant gave him an apologetic look. "Desaix's force was cut off by the Archduke. He cannot help us now."

"They will come for us, our backs are against the wall. Signal the captains, order a full retreat of our forces."

"General? Are you sure?"

Moreau snapped. "Yes, I'm sure dammit, get our men out of that city. Now!"

" _Oui,_ General Moreau. Right away!"

The lieutenant rode of on the back of his mount, leaving Moreau to contemplate the coming storm. He swore he could see hooded figures atop Kehl's ramparts, laughing at him as he sat there helpless. Soon, the whole army knew it was time to leave and the whistles blared out for the whole company to retreat back to the woods.

When they were in full retreat, Moreau turned his horse and began to gallop away from the incoming danger. He rode for what seemed like hours, then he heard some of his men shouting towards the tops of the trees. They began to shoot, Moreau looked up and saw dozens of figures clambering gracefully through the trees, keeping pace with the general as his horse galloped along.

"Kill them! Kill the Assassins!" he shouted. Moreau withdrew his own pistol and fired at them but failed to hit anything.

Then, as fast as they had appeared, one of them leapt from the top of the tree and landed in the saddle facing Moreau. It was the same Assassin he had vanquished twice already.

"We'd best stop meeting like this, Frenchman." he said with a smile.

Moreau took a swing at him with the butt of his flintlock, but the Assassin parried and jammed a hidden blade into his throat. Moreau sputtered before falling from the horse and onto the ground. The soldiers paid little mind to the Assassins, for they were too busy fleeing for their lives.

Moreau; still clutching his neck, looked up at his murderer. "You think this is the end, Assassin? We will rise up stronger than before, you and yours shall be eradicated." he hissed.

August crouched beside Moreau. "Do you remember what I told you, right out there?"

August pointed to the field where he had been shot while trying to defend the city.

"I will never stop fighting, until you're all dead."

Moreau laughed, you have what you wanted. I am moments from death's door."

August stood up. "But my mission is not yet finished. Rest in peace, my worthy adversary."

Moreau's last breaths escaped him as he succumbed. August stared at his lifeless body for several moments before Arno came up beside him.

"It's done then?" Arno asked.

August nodded. "He's left this life, but it is far from over."

Arno nodded also. "Come with me to Huningue. It is under siege as we speak. I must find Abbatucci and the information he holds."

"Alright, I'll help you finish your fight. This is between us and them now. We're brothers by our Creed and we shall never stand alone against the Templars."


	9. Bitter Winter

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Bitter Winter

 **November 24th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. He fought through the glare that pierced the darkness of his apartment to see Lexie was calling him, he answered and responded with an extremely groggy hello.

" _We have a problem."_ Lexie said over the phone.

Kristoff sat up, slightly more awake now. "What's going on?"

Lexie made a sound of exasperation. " _I detected a breach in our servers and have been up all fucking night trying to keep them from the information you've gathered. They figured out it was censored and are looking for the real thing."_

"So, they know I'm helping you?" Kristoff asked.

" _Seems likely, but I don't think they know you know they know. Y'know?"_

"No." Lexie's babbling lost him entirely.

" _Keep sending them stuff, you're literally right on the edge of finding where the Ankh is hidden, maybe one or two Sequences away. Maybe I can hold off their dumbass eggheads long enough to give us some breathing room."_

Kristoff sighed. "I guess I'm going to work early and leaving late?"

" _For the next few days till the Ankh is in Assassin hands."_

"Wait, wouldn't they be able to trace this call?"

" _Not if I don't want them to. Now get some clothes on and get to the studio ASAP."_

"How do you know I'm not wearing clothes?" Kristoff asked, rather frightened now.

" _I had a camera hidden in your apartment. Don't worry, I'll have it removed when we win."_

"Comforting thought."

Kristoff heard the click of the call being dropped and he hastened to get to work and find the location of the Ankh before Abstergo got into the files he'd given to the Assassins. He had maybe days to go through two Sequences which is definitely a lot but he was pretty experienced with the Animus and was confident he could pull it off.

/

 **December 2nd, 1796**

 **Huningue, France**

Arno and August watched as several thousands of Austrian soldiers laid siege to the town of Huningue, it had been nearly two months since Moreau was assassinated by August and he'd agreed to assist Arno with finishing the fight between him and the Brothers of the Cross. It was night and snow had begun to fall, softly at first, but soon it was coming down rather hard.

"Look." August pointed out.

Arno looked over to the far side of the rampart alongside Huningue, he saw a makeshift battering ram creating a sizeable hole in defenses.

"The soldiers will make a distraction, while we slip into the fort and find Abbatucci." Arno said.

" _Sollen wir?"_ (Shall we?)

" _Nous devons."_ (We shall.)

The two Assassins made their way down to the group of soldiers who were making their way through the narrow breach in the wall. The streets of Huningue were tight and narrow and combat in the streets would mean almost certain death for either of them. The Assassins in traditional fashion took to the rooftops and swiftly made their way to the fort which was a dark silhouette in the night sky.

Getting inside the fort was easy enough. The snow storm overhead was wreaking havoc on the visibility which worked towards the Assassin's advantage. Arno with his Gift and August was just a good listener. He could hear a rather annoying voice barking orders and strutting around the fort like a peacock.

" _Les Autrichiens seront bientôt dans ces murs si nous ne prenons pas le rythme, regardez-vous! Vous êtes des excuses piteuses de la puissante armée française!"_ (The Austrians will be within these walls soon if you do not pick up the pace. Look at you! You are pitiful excuses of the mighty French army!)

It was the same voice Arno had heard while he sat in a closet in Cologne several months ago. It was easy to confirm this was Abbatucci. Suddenly, a cry came out from one of the riflemen on the roof and an explosion knocked a chunk the fort's wall.

The French soldiers rushed to meet the enemy, as Arno watched, he saw a stray musket ball fired from the rifle of a scared Frenchman hit Abbatucci square in the chest. He fell to the cold stone and laid there for several moments.

" _Merde,_ he will die if I do nothing." Arno said to August.

Arno jumped onto the wall and quietly dispatched of a French soldier in clothes of similar size to his own. He hastily put on the uniform and slipped into the combat unrecognized. He rushed to Abbatucci's side and picked him up. Arno carried the young Templar into the depths of the fort, and located a small medical wing.

He placed Abbatucci on a surgery bed. Abbatucci grabbed the arm of what he thought was a loyal French militant.

"Thank you, my friend. I owe you a great debt." Abbatucci said weakly.

"Then you can do me a favor, _monsieur_ Abbatucci." Arno said.

Abbatucci smiled. "Anything, _mon ami."_

Arno turned serious instantaneously. "Where are the Brothers of the Cross?"

Abbatucci's smile faded into a scowl. "You ask me to betray my brothers on my death bed? You must think me a fool…"

Arno grabbed the injured man's throat. "I'd think you a fool to refuse. Where are they?"

"Go to hell."

August entered the room, still dressed in his robes. "Your mistress wouldn't be pleased if you died here, would she? What would she do with those three children of her's? She cannot raise them alone."

"You stay away from her!" Abbatucci shouted before beginning to favor his abdominal wound. "Ehrenbreitstein fortress! A few hundred kilometers from here! That's where they are excavating! Damn you Assassins to hell!"

Arno smiled and stood up. "Thank you, Jean Charles. You've made the world a better place. _Repose en paix."_

Abbatucci laughed and shook his head as he succumbed to his wounds. Arno walked over to where August was standing.

"We're that close, are we not?" August asked.

"So close to the final goal." Arno replied.

August smiled. "Here, the Austrians have captured the fort. Can't have you parading around in French garb."

Arno nodded. "No, we cannot."

/

 **Christmas Day, 1796**

 **Ehrenbreitstein Fortress, Germany**

This was it, Arno was mere meters away from the goal that had eluded him for the better part of a year. The last time he had seen Shay or Iolar was back in June when he followed them to Cologne in the back of a wagon. Now, he and August were standing just half a mile from where Ehrenbreitstein sat perched on a ledge overlooking the Rhine river.

From where they stood, the two Assassins could hear the sounds of men digging and excavating, cursing, and yelling at each other. The two Assassins made their way silently into the fortress via a window along the main battery that had been left open and unguarded. Inside, the sound was even worse, piercing, like nails on a chalkboard.

"What is the plan?" August said as they crept through the narrow halls.

"You'll take Iolar, Shay is mine." Arno said with contempt.

They moved around the fortress for several more minutes. Any guards that got in their way were dispatched with ease. Soon, they found within the great hall of Ehrenbreitstein, a large hole that had been dug. The hole shrunk down to what looked like an ancient doorway. They walked through and found it was a series of chambers adorned with the symbols of the Assassin Order.

Then, blocking their path was a group of guards led by a tall young man with the signature Cormac hair, dark as night. And stoic features that could kill. A spitting image of his father, Iolar was.

"Arno. It's been a long time, and you brought a friend. Who are you?"

August sneered at the young Templar. "August Steigen, so you're the pompous brat I've heard so much about."

Iolar's stoic features turned red in embarrassment. "Your quips get you nowhere, Assassin. My father will have the Ankh, you cannot hope to stop him."

August leaned over to Arno. "Go find Cormac, I'll deal with the boy."

Arno advanced on the group and the stepped aside, including Iolar. He growled as Arno passed. "My father is going to kill you, Assassin."

Arno smiled at the boy. "Keep telling yourself that, Iolar."

Arno heard the clash of swords behind him as he advanced forward towards the central chamber. It became obvious to Arno that this place was a burial site for Assassins with all the symbols lining the walls and statues of hooded men with robes that span centuries. Coffins marked with the names of famous Assassins of the Germanic Brotherhood. In the center was the one labeled "Lukas Zurburg." It was open and nothing remained except the skeleton of Zurburg himself.

Shay's voice echoed through the chamber. "Impressive, isn't it? The fact that this place has remained hidden underneath the feet of thousands for four hundred years."

Arno whirled around but found no body to match the voice. Shay continued to speak. "This artifact, this Ankh. It is a sight to behold. But, I know the truth about these things. Machines the Precursors never meant for us to find. The Pieces of Eden."

"I've seen the power of these Pieces of Eden before. The Sword." Arno said as he remembered the burst of light killing his love… Elise…

Shay stepped from the shadows, the Ankh in his hands. It resembled a Christian cross but the top arm was a loop and it was made of gold, or a metal that resembled gold. The Ankh glowed with an intense power.

"Then, you know the hands of the Assassins aren't fit to wield them. I was at Lisbon many years ago. I saw what they did, my brothers killed thousands of innocent people. And they stood by and watched." Shay said through gritted teeth.

Arno drew his sabre. "I cannot allow you to leave here with the Ankh, Shay."

Shay drew his own sword. "Then you will die down here, Arno Victor Dorian."

The two adversaries threw themselves at each other. Arno had the advantage of youth and speed, whilst Shay used experience, insight, and technical prowess to defend against the much younger man's attacks. They moved throughout the chamber in their duel 20 years in the making.

As their swords clashed, sparks rained onto the stones above. Each combatant's guard would lower for a split second. Long enough for the other to get in a well-placed strike or knick. After what felt like an eternity of fighting, they were both bloodied and out of breath.

Arno and Shay locked swords once again. Shay twisted his own around and the outward spiralling hilt caught Arno's and sent his sword flying. Arno grabbed Shay's arm in response and gave the Templar a swift headbutt, wrenching his sword from his hands and tossing it aside. Leaving them both unarmed. Shay's hidden blade slide out and Arno's did the same.

The two warriors clashed again but with stronger, faster strokes with their short blades. Arno did a dive roll around Shay's flank and dug his blade into Shay knee. Shay cried out in pain and slashed wildly, catching Arno in his shoulder.

Arno dropped a smoke bomb; the last he had, and disappeared into the darkness of the tomb. Shay looked around, limping but still very much in the fight.

"You know my words to be true, Arno! Your Creed will betray you! They shall put their own agenda over your life and the lives of the innocents and the people you love! They are not fit to have the Ankh and will not allow them to have it! Even if I must kill you, I will do so gladly."

Arno had had enough of listening, he dropped from where he was perched on the ceiling and landed atop the Templar. Shay fell to the floor with the Assassin on top of him. Arno stomped on Shay's hidden blade, destroying it. Arno brought his own hidden blade inches from Shay's face at stayed there for several moments as both men caught their breath, Arno's once secure hood had dropped at some point in the fight, revealing his long brown hair.

"So," Shay said. "This is how it'll end for me?"

Arno tensed up but didn't reply.

"I dedicated my life to the cause that I believed in, not the one that I benefited from. Can you say the same, Arno? Can you say you truly believe in the Creed? I swore the same oath you did when I was a boy. Uphold justice, stay my blade from the flesh of the innocent... I upheld that Creed whilst those I called brothers broke it. So I made another oath, an oath to the dead men, women, and children in Lisbon. That I'd never let the Assassins do anywhere else what they did there. So go on, I know you don't want to kill me because I am an Assassin turned Templar. You want to kill me because twenty years ago, I killed someone near and dear to you. So, just do it boy. Do it!"

Arno didn't move, he thought for a long time. Then, the blade returned into Arno's gauntlet and was gone. Arno stood up from where Shay lay.

"No," Arno said. "All my life, I've hated you for killing my father. Just as I've hated Germain for killing my Elise. And while I shall never stop hating you, it is time I moved on. Forgave. My time being selfish is over."

Arno turned around and began walking out of the chamber. Shay fought to his knees and shouted at the Assassin.

"That Ankh doesn't belong to you! It belongs with the Templars!" he screame at Arno.

Arno stopped in the doorway of the chamber. He looked down at the object he'd sacrificed so much to obtain and realized it wasn't worth it. He turned and threw the ancient object at Shay's feet and left. He walked out to where August had Iolar subdued. Injured and angy, but alive.

"Let him go." Arno said.

"What?" August said.

"Let's go, we're done here." replied Arno.

August glanced down at the young Templar and let him go, he took off towards the chamber and his father.

"The Ankh?"

Arno shook his head. "Some things aren't worth sacrificing your life over."

Arno turned to leave. August turned and followed. "Wait, Arno."

Arno stopped. "Yes?"

"I still need a favor."

/

 **June 14th, 1800**

 **Spinetta Marengo, Italy**

 _I still need a favor._ The words August had said to him before they parted ways in Ehrenbreitstein. Well, today Arno would uphold his word.

He stood on a rooftop overlooking a large courtyard. French soldiers were everywhere surrounded by cheering civilians. At the center of it all on a large platform was Louis Desaix. He was the leader of the French forces in Italy under Napoleon Bonaparte and the people loved him.

Desaix's death would be a major hit to his own country but the Creed was worth more to him than his country. He prepared the powder in his long musket and readied the musket ball. Slowly, he loaded it in and prepared to fire.

Down in the square, Louis Desaix noticed the hooded figure standing on the roof with a musket and realized his time had finally come. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and raised his sabre to the sky.

"There is yet time to win another battle!" Desaix shouted.

Nobody heard the musket firing over the sound of the crowd. The only thing that tipped them off was seeing Desaix's body falling to the wooden platform. Many of the soldiers, who had just witnessed their leader be shot dead, turne and fired upon the Assassin as he turned and ran off. Beginning the long journey back to Paris.

/

 **June 14th, 1800**

 **Cairo, Egypt**

August awaited the arrival of the Assassin who'd assist him on this mission. He had infiltrated the Palace of Alfi bik easy enough, now it was time to end the life of the final name on his list; Jean-Baptiste Kleber. He'd evaded August's blade for four years and now, he'd finally end it.

Suleiman al-Halabi came from the shadows and entered the alcove where August was hiding. "Everything is ready." Suleiman said.

August put a hand on Suleiman's shoulder. "I cannot thank you enough for this."

Suleiman smiled. "You will not have to."

Suleiman clambered over a roof and dropped down into one of the Palace's gardens. He waited for several moments before Kleber arrived in the gardens, taking an early morning walk. Suleiman approached the French general and took his hand. Acting like he was begging for food.

"Please, sir. I have a family and have not eaten in days."

" _Éloignez-vous de moi, paysagain dégoûtant!"_ Kleber shouted at Suleiman.

August came out from nowhere and forced his hidden blade into Kleber's heart. The Templar gasped and fell to the ground. Someone must have noticed because there was a scream and guards came rushing into the gardens.

Suleiman stepped in front of August. "Get out of here!"

"Suleiman-"

"Go! Now!"

Suleiman stayed for fight off the guards as August made his escape, he watched from nearby as Suleiman was captured and dragged away by the Palace guards. Another name off the list, the warpath was over. Now, there was only one thing left to finish. August started a long journey all the way to Ireland, for he was once again going after the Cormac family.


	10. Past and Present

Assassin's Creed: Vengeance

Past and Present

 **August 3rd, 1800**

 **The Brotherhood Sanctum, Paris, France**

The last time Arno had stood before this Council, he was reporting on his mission in Germany. How the Brother's of the Cross where searching for a mystical artifact while high ranking French Templar invaded. A ploy mostlike. Quemar, Trenet, and Guillaume were pleased that he managed to dismantle the Templar plot and end a war. However, this was a very different kind of meeting.

As Arno had walked into the Sanctum, his robes and weapons had been stripped from him, leaving him with a shirt and trousers, similar apparel to how he'd first appeared before them.

Quemar held the report in his hands and sighed. "Arno," he said. "What could've possessed you to do such a thing? In front of all those people."

Arno took a step forward. "Louis Desaix was a Templar, and he was a part of the network I destroyed four years ago. It was tying up loose ends."

Trenet cocked an eyebrow. "Really? So it's coincidental that Jean-Baptiste Kleber, another Templar was assassinated by the Assassin you met in Germany? Was this duty, or a vendetta?"

Arno crossed his arms. "What does it matter? A dead Templar is a dead Templar."

Guillaume was just as angry, and he was usually the most calm of the Council's members. "A Templar doing a great service to the country of France. Leading a substantial branch of Napoleon's army in Italy, murdered before thousands?"

Arno sighed. "My Creed comes before my country."

Quemar spoke up again. "It should be the other way around. Arno Dorian, we have no choice. You've once again acted outside the laws set upon you by this council. We've been just for nearly ten years at this point and; Arno, we're tired of your insubordination."

Arno cocked his head. "What are you saying?" he asked rather breathlessly.

"Leave the Sanctum, Mr. Dorian. Never return, you are no longer an Assassin." Trenet finished for Quemar.

Arno didn't say a word in response, instead he turned and walked out. Knowing no words could reverse their decision. He made his choice and the consequences were his alone to live with.

When Arno had gone, Quemar to Guillaume. "Send a letter to the American Colonies, we are going to need help with him."

Guillaume stared at his colleague wide-eyed. "You banish him now you want him dead?"

"He'll never stop being a nuisance if we don't!" Quemar snapped.

A fourth voice piped from the back of the chamber. "You didn't tell him about our arrangement."

A young handsome man stepped from the shadows behind them. He didn't wear Assassin garb, but was instead dressed in an outfit inspired by Shay Cormac.

" _Monsieur_ Corbett, when we require your council on matters strictly related to the Assassin Order, we'll be sure to let you know."

Abelino Corbett smiled and placed an arm around Quemar. "I think you and I will be great friends one day."

/

 **September 22nd, 1809**

 **Galway, Ireland**

Iolar and his son Cudgel stood on the docks awaiting their ship to depart. In Cudgel's hands, he held a box containing the Ankh buried under an assortment of correspondences that were meant to go to America anyway. The captain signaled from the ship that it was time to depart. Iolar turned and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"You know the importance of the contents of that box, son. And why it is important you make it to New York with it still in your possession?"

Cudgel nodded. "I do, father. I'll make sure it all makes it to America."

Iolar smiled. "Have a good life, son. Your mother; wherever she may be, she'll be watching you. We both love you."

Cudgel nodded and boarded the ship, within a few minutes they were maybe a mile from the mainland. Cudgel took the time to walk the deck and watch the ocean swirl by in the ship's wake.

It was an overcast September day, the sky made the ocean seem a deep silver. As if the ocean was filled with pure liquid metal. The air was salty and the breeze that fluttered Cudgel's cloak was cold but familiar. A sign that life in America might not be so different from life in Ireland, where he'd lived his whole life.

As Cudgel slipped into a state of pure relaxation, a crew member came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Cudgel; slightly annoyed at the man for breaking his calmness, turned and faced him with a glare.

"What is it?" Cudgel said.

The sailor pointed towards his cabin. "Did you mean to leave the door open, sir?"

Cudgel took a step towards the sailor. "I've not been in my cabin yet."

Realization took hold and Cudgel raced for his cabin below deck. He found the door wide open like the sailor said and the interior had been torn apart. The box he'd carried aboard had been broken into and the Artifact was missing.

Cudgel ran to the stern of the ship and there, standing on the railing was a man wearing brown, flowing robes and a hood. He turned and smiled at him as he held the Ankh in his hands.

August smiled at the boy and he lept from the stern and onto the small lifeboat he'd detached from the ship he'd stowed away on. He quickly began rowing back to the mainland with the wake of the ship giving him a boost in speed.

Cudgel ran and peered over the edge and watched the only task he had row away from him with nothing he could do but watch. Father would kill him if he found out, good thing he probably wouldn't.

/

 **January 19th, 1810**

 **Ulm, Germany**

August stood over the grave of his apprentice; Gunther Schulze. He had been buried there after the Battle of Kehl fourteen years prior. He didn't attend the ceremony and the regret and shame he felt he carried him all this time. A small tear rolled down August's face.

"Hello, Gunther. It's been some time. I know I was not there for you, I failed as a teacher and I will live with that for the rest of my days, but… I ask one final favor of you."

August took the Ankh from his satchel. "This was once laid to rest in the arms of an Assassin. It shall be so again, I hope you find your peace in Heaven, brother. And… Someday… I'll come find you."

August dug a pit in Gunther's grave and placed the Ankh inside. He replaced the dirt and left the cemetery. August wasn't sure where he'd go, but he was eager to see where the road took him.

/

 **November 28th, 2017**

 **New York City, New York**

Kristoff was ecstatic, he exited his Animus an immediately gave Lexie an email. " _Lexie, I found it. I know where the Ankh is, we need to go now. I'm sure Abstergo already knows as well."_

/

 **November 29th, 2017**

 **Ulm, Germany**

Kristoff and Lexie arrived in the graveyard in a car they'd rented rather hastily. This was it, the Ankh was mere meters away from them and they'd finally be able to get their hands on it. They exited the vehicle and walked into the graveyard. Night had fallen and rain was beginning to as well. Kristoff knew the Ankh was in one of the graves but locations were a bit muddled.

Suddenly, they heard a noise. They whirled around to see a man hunched over a grave digging at it with his bare hands. They slowly approached the possibly crazy man until he noticed them.

Dr. Salen stood up and laughed. "I knew you two would come. Listen, Bishop? Can I call you Bishop? You really need to work on those hacking skills of yours. What you were fighing to keep out of your little Assassin network was decoy, dummy! While my techs slipped in and took what we could find. A live feed straight from Kristoff's Animus."

"So you knew as soon as we did?" Kristoff said as his fists clenched, ready for a fight.

"Got on the first flight to Dusseldorf, arrived this morning. Same as you I reckon?"

Lexie scoffed. "You'd reckon correctly."

Kristoff took a step towards Salen but was stopped dead in his tracks when he pulled a gun. "No, I can't let you have it! It belongs to the Templar Order!"

 _No, Ronny. This isn't right!_

"I don't care, Desmond! It belongs to me, not them!" Salen shouted at himself.

Kristoff and Lexie shared a look of confusion.

 _I'm warning you, Ronald. Stop. Now._

Ronald raised the gun and squeezed the trigger, it was aiming at Kristoff's chest. A fatal blow.

 _You made me do this…_

Suddenly, Salen lost control of his body. He watched in horror as his own weapon raised to his temple. He felt his own finger press against the trigger but he could do nothing to stop it. He screamed as he shot himself in the head.

Disturbed by what they just witnessed, Kristoff and Lexie wasted little time retrieving the Ankh off of Salen's body and running back to their rented vehicle and speeding away.

/

 **December 1st, 2017**

 **Abstergo Testing Facility, Cincinnati, Ohio**

 _God, flying a consciousness across an ocean is harder work than you might think. But, I did it nonetheless. I flew past a lot of monuments on my way to the place they were storing my body. What? I'm a ghost, ghosts can't sightsee?_

 _Whatever, anyway, I got into the lab no prob. Then I levitated my spectral ass over to the cold storage and found it. My body. This precious thing had been through some rough shit. My entire right arm was burnt, eh, I can probably afford surgery as a bartender. And I had a Y-section scar. Not so fixable._

 _I can alway just say I was resuscitated, wonder how long that'll work? I did what the ghosts did in the movies and laid down on the slab Abstergo had me on and waited. Sure enough, it worked. My mind fused back into my body and I woke up. I was cold as fuck, but alive._

 _I sat up and snuck my way upstairs and into possessions. Hehe, ironic, ain't it? Anyhoo, I took a black shirt, a white hoodie, jeans, a red belt, and a single strap backpack. Desmond Miles is back, baby!_

 _I left the facility and reentered society. Luckily, Abstergo's super hush hush and didn't register as deceased, only missing. Well, I ain't missing no more._

 _/_

 **FILE_21_OPEN_ADMIN_ACCESS**

 **WELCOME_KRISTOFF_SCHULTZ**

This is my first log of sorts so I'll keep it short. I kept the Animus Abstergo gave me. I cleaned out my studio and found that my co workers had been completely brainwashed. Nothing I could do, I was forced to leave without them. I brought everything back to my apartment and set it. Good thing it might as well be a VR console. It was easy to hook up.

I decided after a while of staring at it, what if I just see the end? What happens to Arno Victor Dorian? I sat down, put on the headset, and cranked his memories all the way to the very end.

/

 **July 24th, 1845**

 **Crawley, England**

"Step into it, Ethan!" Arno shouted at the young Assassin as he watched him spar in the courtyard.

Arno was 77 years old now and age had caught up to him. His brief interaction with the Ankh back when he was 28 had extended his life by a few years but not so many to matter. Now, he had arthritis and years of climbing and jumping left his back and knees rather fragile. About 30 years ago, Arno had traveled from his home in Paris to England to assist the Assassin order there.

After the Council member died and Abelino Corbett was killed, Arno was once again accepted back into the order by their successors. He elected to relocated to England to be their Mentor. The desperately needed one.

He had taken it upon himself to train two young Assassins named Ethan Frye and George Westhouse. They spared day and night and improved every day under his guidance.

Ethan stopped sparring for a moment, breathless. "Mentor," he said. "I've tried to step into a dozen times."

Arno sighed and stood. He motioned with his arms and legs the proper motion of stepping into his sword's swing and catching the opponent off guard. Ethan smiled and did exactly as Arno had instructed.

"Very good, Ethan." Arno said. "Keep it up, you'll be a Master before you know it."

Another Assassin walked into the courtyard and gave a slight bow before approaching Arno and his favorite chair. "Mentor Dorian, there is a man here to see you. Say's he knows you."

Arno laughed. "I never forget a name. What is his?"

"Leon, Leon Guereau, Mentor."

Arno's eyes snapped open again. He sprung from the chair faster than he had in years and moved into the house. He moved through several doors until he reached the foyer. There, a man in his early sixties turned and looked at him. It had been half a decade, but Arno could recognize that young boy from Franciade anywhere.

He walked up to him and gave him a hug. "Where have you been?"

Leon smile and hugged his old friend. "After you left Franciade, I joined the Assassins. I've been all over the place, China, South America, Russia. Everywhere in between."

Arno hugged him again. "How long will you be staying in England?"

Leon frowned. "Not long, Arno. I'm bound for America and heard your name as I passed by. I had to see you."

He grinned and nodded. "I see, thank you for coming. I've missed you you know. You've grown so much since that young boy I met in Franciade."

Leon laughed. "It's been half a century!"

"Time flies, does it not?"

/

 **July 28th, 1845**

 **Crawley, England**

After Leon had visited him in Crawley after not seeing him for 51 years, Arno had been at his happiest. But, Leon had different plans and had to leave for America the next morning. Still, it was wonderful to see an old friend again. Sadly, Arno had come down with a sickness the day after and had been bed stricken in his chambers ever since.

Arno had called Ethan into his room to talk. For he knew the day was no coincidence, but prophesy. Ethan opened the door.

"You asked to see me, Mentor?" Ethan asked as he walked in.

Arno motioned him to sit in a chair that had been placed beside the bed, he sat up against the head of the bed and smiled.

"Do you know what day it is, Ethan?" Arno asked.

Ethan thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"It's July the twenty eighth. This day, fifty one years ago… I lost someone. Someone dear to me. And I want you to make a promise to me on this day."

Ethan was growing more and more concerned. "Anything, Mentor."

Arno smiled. "You are a good man. When you find someone worth dying for… Make sure you fight to keep them from leaving you… I failed and I lived with that for many many years after. Can you do that?"

Ethan nodded. "I can, Mentor. I… I will."

Arno closed his eyes and sighed. "Good, now. Close the door and leave me to rest… For I am tired now."

Ethan quickly got up and left the room, he quietly closed the door behind him and left the aged Assassin to rest. Suddenly, Arno felt another presence in the room with him. But not physical, more… spiritual.

Elise stood before him, she hadn't aged a day since that fight in the Temple. Her beauty and fiery passion still on display. He had no idea how she stood there, but he was fine with the sight.

"Arno…" she said. "My love…"

"Elise? I am here." Arno replied.

Elise placed her smooth hand on his wrinkled one. "You fought hard, my love. You gave everything you cared for for your duty. Your honor, your valor, me… All sacrificed. No one asks anymore from you, my love. Come home to me…"

Arno's eyes watered. "I am ready, Elise. I want to come home…"

Arno's life faded away. Silently, and peacefully, he passed from this world and moved onto the next. He had waited patiently, he fought through the strife and turmoil but ended on top every time. He found it within himself to forgive the man who murdered his father and made a life for himself beyond it… He had lived life to the fullest and now… Like all our live must… Arno Victor Dorian left with no pain, only happiness and fulfilment.

He'd finally been reunited with Elise, the girl who'd hold his heart, now and forever...


End file.
